Chapter 6: The Daughter Who Held The Missing Piece
I stared at the photograph until my eyes hurt.
The image didn’t make sense.
It couldn’t.
The girl standing beside my father outside his old workshop was me.
Younger.
Twenty years old.
My hair was longer.
My face was softer.
I remembered that day.
At least, I thought I did.
It was a normal afternoon.
A day filled with sketches, coffee, and my father’s voice telling me that every great creation began with a single idea.
But the photograph showed something different.
Something I had forgotten.
Something someone wanted me to remember.
“Claire?””
Daniel’s voice pulled me back.
I looked up.
Everyone was watching me.
Victoria.
Ethan.
Daniel.
All waiting for an explanation I didn’t have.
“I don’t understand.””
My voice sounded distant.
Daniel reached toward the phone.
“Let me see.””
I handed it to him.
His face changed immediately.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
“You’ve seen this before.””
It wasn’t a question.
It was an accusation.
Daniel looked away.
“I’ve seen the photograph.””
My chest tightened.
“When?””
He didn’t answer.
“Daniel.””
He sighed.
“Years ago.””
“Why?””
“Because your father showed it to me.””
I laughed quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
“Everyone knew.””
Nobody responded.
“Everyone knew something about my life except me.””
My voice grew sharper.
“My father.””
“My mother.””
“You.””
“Victoria’s family.””
I looked around the room.
“Who else?””
Nobody spoke.
And that silence hurt more than any confession.
Victoria stepped forward.
“Claire, I swear I didn’t know about this.””
I looked at her.
“Didn’t you?””
She shook her head.
“No.””
For once, I believed her.
Not completely.
But enough.
Because Victoria looked just as lost as I felt.
I turned back to Daniel.
“What was this photograph?””
Daniel stared at the image.
“Your father called it insurance.””
“Insurance?””
“He believed if anything happened to him, this would prove you were involved.””
I froze.
“Involved in what?””
Daniel didn’t answer immediately.
That scared me more than anything.
“Tell me.””
He sat down slowly.
“Your father discovered that the stolen designs weren’t the only thing Richard Hale took.””
I waited.
“He discovered someone inside his own company had been helping him.””
My heart sank.
“My mother?””
Daniel shook his head.
“No.””
The answer surprised me.
“Then who?””
Daniel looked at the photograph.
“You.””
The word hit like a physical blow.
I stepped back.
“What?””
Victoria looked shocked.
“Claire?””
Daniel immediately raised his hand.
“Not the way you think.””
“Then explain.””
He took a breath.
“When you were twenty, your father discovered something in your sketches.””
“My designs?””
“Yes.””
“What about them?””
“They matched designs stolen from Bellavelle.””
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible.””
“I know.””
“Because I created those designs.””
Daniel nodded.
“Exactly.””
The room became silent.
I remembered those years.
The endless nights.
The notebooks scattered across my bedroom.
The hours I spent drawing ideas that existed only in my imagination.
Nobody helped me.
Nobody gave me designs.
They were mine.
Daniel continued.
“Your father realized something was wrong.””
“What?””
“He believed someone was using you.””
My hands went cold.
“Using me?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
Daniel looked at the photograph.
“Your sketches were being copied.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“Claire—”
“No.””
I stepped away.
“My father never told me.””
“Because he was trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
Daniel looked at me.
“From knowing the truth.””
I almost laughed.
“The truth?””
I pointed at the photograph.
“Apparently everyone knew the truth except me.””
Nobody argued.
Because nobody could.
I walked toward the window.
Outside, the city continued moving.
Cars passed.
People walked.
The world looked normal.
But mine wasn’t.
For ten years, I believed my father abandoned me.
For ten years, I believed my family fell apart because he left.
But now I was discovering something worse.
My entire life had been built around a lie.
“Where is my father now?””
Daniel became quiet.
That was the answer.
I turned.
“Daniel.””
“I don’t know.””
“You helped him disappear.””
“Yes.””
“Then how can you not know?””
“Because he stopped contacting me.””
“When?””
“Seven years ago.””
My eyes narrowed.
“Seven?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Daniel looked down.
“Because he thought someone had found him.””
A chill moved through me.
“Who?””
“I don’t know.””
Another secret.
Another missing piece.
I was tired of missing pieces.
I grabbed my bag.
“I’m going to the workshop.””
Daniel stood.
“I’ll come with you.””
“No.””
The answer came instantly.
He stopped.
I looked at him.
“I need to know what my father left behind.””
“Claire—”
“If you’re telling the truth, you’ll understand.””
He stared at me.
Then slowly nodded.
“Fine.””
Victoria stepped forward.
“I’m coming too.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
She hesitated.
“Because if my father is involved…”
She swallowed.
“I need to know what he did.””
I studied her.
The woman who had mocked me hours earlier was now standing beside me.
Not as a friend.
Not yet.
But as someone searching for answers too.
“Fine.””
Ethan looked surprised.
“Victoria.””
She turned.
“I’m going.””
He lowered his voice.
“Are you sure?””
“No.””
Her honesty surprised me.
“But I’m tired of pretending everything is fine.””
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the old workshop.
The building sat at the edge of the city.
Hidden between older houses and forgotten streets.
Nothing about it looked valuable.
No security.
No luxury.
No sign that a famous jewelry designer had once created masterpieces there.
The paint was faded.
The windows were dusty.
The door was covered with years of weather damage.
But the moment I stepped outside, my chest tightened.
I remembered.
The smell of metal.
The sound of tools.
My father’s voice.
“Every stone has a story, Claire.””
I touched the old door.
And suddenly, I felt like I was twenty years old again.
Daniel unlocked it.
The door opened with a long creak.
Inside, everything looked frozen.
The workbench remained.
The old chair.
The shelves.
The sketches.
Like someone had left yesterday.
Not ten years ago.
Victoria walked inside slowly.
“This place…”
She looked around.
“It feels like he just disappeared.””
I didn’t answer.
Because that was exactly how it felt.
I walked toward my father’s desk.
Dust covered everything.
Except one object.
A small wooden box.
Placed carefully in the center.
My name was written on top.
Claire.
My hands trembled.
Nobody spoke.
I opened it.
Inside were dozens of papers.
Photographs.
Documents.
And one small audio recorder.
I pressed the button.
Static filled the room.
Then my father’s voice appeared.
My knees almost gave out.
“Claire.””
I closed my eyes.
“Wherever you are when you hear this…”
His voice cracked.
“…it means I failed to protect you.””
I opened my eyes.
Daniel looked away.
Victoria covered her mouth.
My father continued.
“I need you to know something.””
A pause.
“The person who betrayed me was never trying to destroy Bellavelle.””
Static.
“They were trying to destroy you.””
I looked at the recorder.
“What?””
My father continued.
“Because you were the only person who could expose them.””
The room felt colder.
“Claire, the designs you created when you were twenty weren’t stolen from you.””
A pause.
“They were planted.””
I stopped breathing.
“What?””
My father’s voice became quieter.
“Someone wanted you to become the perfect witness.””
The recording crackled.
Then his final words played.
“The reason they needed you is because you unknowingly created the one thing that can bring them down.””
The recorder stopped.
Nobody moved.
Then the workshop lights suddenly turned off.
Darkness swallowed the room.
A second later, something crashed outside.
Daniel immediately moved toward the door.
“Stay back.””
A shadow passed across the window.
Someone was outside.
Watching us.
Then a voice came through the broken glass.
“Claire Bennett.””
I froze.
The voice was familiar.
Too familiar.
“Your father was right about one thing.””
The shadow stepped closer.
“You are the only person who can destroy us.””
Daniel opened the door.
But the person was already gone.
Only one thing remained on the ground outside.
A small envelope.
My name was written on it.
Inside was a single photograph.
A photograph of my father.
Alive.
Taken yesterday.
May you like
And on the back were six words that made my blood run cold.
*He never stopped watching you.*
